Ms. G’s

I’ll always consider this our first date, even though we had met three times before that. This one was sweetest.

You were at work, running late. I was wearing glasses and a T-shirt because I hadn’t thought you would actually make it. The appetizers had already come and gone when you arrived.

You swept down the stairs, squeezed my shoulder and pulled yourself into the chair across from me, and I felt, rather than saw, the room gravitate toward you. I struggled to contain my smile, how stupidly lucky I felt to be in your presence.

Outdoors had been light when I started eating, but it was dark when you finally arrived, and the red lighting made your face seem especially warm.

You insisted you were full—but you ate everything anyway, with an appetite I would come to know as one of your weaknesses. The details still cling to me: how you passed your Bulgari ring between your fingers and took it off to let me see, how you hid your face in your hands as I took a photo. I wonder if you remember them as clearly as I do, or if you were as lost in me as I was in you.

We were the last ones out of the restaurant, and as we walked to the door, I turned to take a photo of the interior, jam jars affixed to the ceiling, a neon sign. And another, and another: anything to prolong that experience of being with you.

We could have eaten ashes, and it would have tasted of ambrosia.

Traditional Asian cuisine this is not; Jowett Yu’s menu features tongue-in-cheek fusion dishes like banh mi sliders and cheeseburger spring rolls. Some dishes, like the mixed-bag dessert Stoner’s Delight, may overreach in their creativity, but others, like the sweet and sour lamb ribs with mint, are winners. The restaurant spans four floors—the most striking seating area is set in a two-floor atrium—but during popular hours, it can still be filled to capacity.